


lost in japan

by soudont



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, F/M, Past Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, butch is uhhhh a mess, buttercup is trying her best, it's a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 09:09:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soudont/pseuds/soudont
Summary: He's in too deep.





	lost in japan

He doesn't know what he's doing; He doesn't _have_ to know, really. His head is buzzing.

The drink is his hand is slowly spilling out of the bottle, dripping onto the roof of the random building. The winter night is cold, biting his naked arms, but he can't find it in himself to care at all. His bangs fall over his emerald-colored eyes (he stopped spiking it years ago), and he lets them hang there. He doesn't care.

He hasn't felt happy in _years_.

Ever since his rebirth, he's been slowly sinking into a pit of despair. His contentedness disappeared, like Brick's temper, and Boomer's brains. It was like he was numb. Excitedness was a relief; He let himself go crazy because it was the closest thing to actual happiness. It felt like he lost his mind. He's not even sure whether or not he's sane anymore. His heart almost hurts, as if he actually _had_ one.

Guilt is the strongest emotion he's ever felt. He and his brothers reformed years ago, finally sick of the emotional abuse from _Him_ and bored of what they were doing. It wasn't even just boredom that caused him to quit evil; he just couldn't take it anymore. Everyone hated them - _him_ \- almost more than he already hated himself. He wishes he was never born in the first place. Maybe then he wouldn't have made all those mistakes. Maybe then _she_ wouldn't hate him so much.

So, he drinks. He's only seventeen, and he knows this isn't the right way, but he can't help it anymore. It distracts him from himself.

And _her_.

He's in too deep; Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He mumbles a soft "Fuck-" under his breath, and he lets his head fall back. He doesn't want to cry. He's so tired of it. He tries laughing, but he can't make it feel real. He feels so numb.

How did this even happen? When did he slip? He's not happy, but his pulse races every time he sees her. His face feels hot, and it's even closer to contentment than excitement. It's almost like he's addicted to her. She's so perfect, and he's just a piece of shit in comparison. It's no wonder she hates him. He chokes out another fake laugh; A failed attempt to stabilize himself.

His head rolls forward again, and he looks over across the city. There's nobody awake that night; Not a light to be seen. He sighs quietly. He almost wishes someone was awake, so maybe someone would see him and care. But there's nobody. He almost wants to jump off the building, but he doesn't. There's no point. He takes another swig from the bottle, and-

"I hope you're not planning on drinking that entire bottle."

His ears perk up at the voice and he whips his head around. Buttercup is standing there, illuminated by the moonlight. He doesn't know when she got there, but he doesn't care, not when her dark hair curls around her chin and her lime eyes are narrowed, showcasing her disapproval. He almost smiles; She's _beautiful,_ and he's not upset that she's found him.

"I can't, anyway. Half of it poured out of the bottle." His tone is teasing, but fake.

She scowls at him. "That doesn't mean you should drink the rest of it."

"And who's going to stop me? You?" He lifts the bottle to his lips again, when it's snatched out of his hand. Buttercup is floating in front of him now, and she throws the glass off the building into the alleyway beside it. His eyes widen.

"Yes, actually." She smirks victoriously at his surprised expression, before frowning at him again. "What were you thinking, you dumbass? You can really damage yourself doing this kind of shit! You're making me go all 'Blossom' on you, and you know how much I _hate_ acting like her!"

He's silent. His eyes fall to his lap, unwilling to look at her any longer. That guilty feeling is back again, and he feels sick to his stomach. She's going out of her way to say this, to be talking to him in general, and he's just a piece of shit. His lip starts trembling. _Don't cry, Butch._

"Hey." It's almost as if she senses his pain. Her fingers slip under his chin and she forces his gaze towards her again. He blinks, trying to force his tears to disappear from his eyes, and now she's smiling at him. "It's okay. I'm sorry."

He almost slaps her for apologizing. He's the one who should be sorry! He's the one drinking at three o'clock in the morning. He feels her hand adjust to cup his cheek, and her thumb swiping over it. He realizes then that he's shedding tears and he didn't even realize it. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_.

The worst part isn't that she's here for him at three A.M. Nor is it that he's crying in front of her. It's that he just wants to _kiss_ her.

He could. He could use the alcohol as an excuse. He could wrap his arms around her and kiss her with no regret, and then apologize the next morning by using the excuse that he was drunk, but he's not drunk, not really. He could, but he can’t. It’s just another thing he would have to add to his list of regrets. _Number 1,927: Kissing Buttercup and using alcohol as an excuse for wanting to. The actual reason was that I liked her._

He could fight her. He really could (again using alcohol as an excuse), but they’re already reformed and he doesn’t want to commit his own sins again. Not to mention, he’s afraid to touch her. He doesn’t want to hurt her; It’s like her skin is porcelain and he’s a bloody mallet. She’d crack. That’s another thing on the list. _Number 1,927.5: Fighting Buttercup and using alcohol as an excuse for wanting to, even though I don’t even want to touch her._

His heart hurts and he wants to hang his head again, but her grip on his chin is strong and he couldn’t even if he really tried to. He wants her to stay, but he wants her to leave too. She shouldn’t see the messier side of him, even if she’s had before many, many times. He feels more tears slip down his cheeks and his mind is chanting a smooth rhythm of “ _fuck, fuck, fuck_ ” while he contemplates suicide (after she leaves) for the thousandth time that night. His mind is buzzing again. He hates this; He hates this so much. ( _Actual) Number 1,927: Considering suicide in front of Buttercup_ . Again. He sucks in air through his teeth and nearly chokes. Hiccup, hiccup, hiccup. Hiccup after hiccup after _another fucking hiccup_. He’s full out sobbing.

And she hugs him.

His breathing stops. _What the fuck? What the_ fuck _?_

Her arms tighten around him. It’s then that he realizes those arms are around his waist and he feels almost too comfortable. He thinks about how those arms should be around his neck for a moment, but with a quick thought of “fuck the tradition”, he wraps his own arms around _her_ neck.

They embrace for almost too long, and it’s quiet. His breathing has slowed down and he’s calmer than he’s ever felt. His heart pings.

Their cheeks are almost touching and he can’t help but notice how warm she is. She’s like a fireplace that you sit around with your family on Christmas. It’s warm, cheerful, and smells like pine and amber. She smells like pine and amber through her scarf. He likes it. He likes _her_.

She lets go of his waist and he feels disappointed because he has to let go of her now too. He loosens his arms and she slips away from him. He immediately frowns. He can’t smell pine and amber anymore.

“You good now?” She asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He wants to smile, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t do anything, even as she waves her hand in his face. “Earth to Butch.”

He makes eye contact with her and she smiles at him again. His chest feels warm and fluttery, even if he still feels out of it. She throws him down to earth (sometimes literally, specifically when they’re sparring) even when his mind is in space. He can’t help it; His lips curl upwards in return.

Her soft smile turns into a grin, and he _giggles_ . A full out fucking _giggle_. She pauses for a moment, face falling, and then she breathes out hard and cracks up, a loud laugh leaving her mouth. He smiles wider.

“Fuck, Butch,” She lands next to him and crouches, “You’re so stupid sometimes that I don’t even know what you’d do without me.” Her gaze is warm when he faces her and his cheeks heat up, eyes gazing sheepishly to the side, but the smile never leaves his face.

“Me either.” He says it so fast and serious, even though he knew she was teasing.

He hates the surprised look that appears on her face for a while. “You serious?”

 _Fuck._ He’s fucked up now. If he confirms it, she’d ask for an explanation. If he denies, then it’s just another thing that appears on the guilt list. He gulps, suddenly nervous. That cheerful, light mood has disappeared, now replaced with something heavier. He wants her to leave again. It’s too early for this. He stays silent, but he knows that’s also giving himself away. _Fuck_.

She frowns slightly. “Butch?”

He gulps, and it’s audible. His gaze strays again, but then his eyes squeeze shut and he just opens his mouth and lets the stupid words roll off his tongue.

“ _I like you_.”

It’s so simple; It’s so dumb, yet he doesn’t open his eyes. He can’t even think to look at her now. He wishes he wasn’t such an idiot. Fuck, there goes their friendship. She fucking hates him even more now, she-

“I know.”

_Huh?_

His eyes snap open and now it’s the opposite, his eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of their sockets. _She_ knew? “What the fuck?”

She laughs. “Yeah. I’ve known for a while.”  
His lips curl downwards, and he looks away. He knows what is coming next. His heart already hurts. He hates how he feels _guilty_ and _regretful_. He sighs in defeat as his shoulders slump.

“I’m waiting.”

He can’t see her, but he can tell that she’s raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“I’m _waiting_.”

“Yeah, I get that, but for what?” Her voice sounds amused and he hates it.

“For you to reject me, you bitch.” He whips his head around to face her again. His eyebrows narrow at her. Why are they still acting like friends? It’s over after this and he knows it.

“Hate to break it to you, but you’re going to have to wait. I’ve waited all this fucking time for you to confess to me and I’m not ruining it by rejecting you, psycho,” His eyes widen again. “Don’t be stupid, Butch. Why the fuck would I reject you?”

Oh. _Oh_.

She likes him, too.

He laughs, slapping his forehead hard. “Fuck, am I dense or what?” His other hand flies up too, covering his face. He groans loudly. He feels so _dumb_.

She laughs with him. “Yeah, but that’s okay. Even though I was starting to think that you would never do it and I would have to make the first move, even though I’m fucking terrible at that shit. Remember what happened with Mitch?”

“Yeah, that was fucking _bad_ .” He snorts as he remembers watching her subtly _screamed_ out a confession because she got so frustrated with her own emotions. He wanted to laugh so badly at her back then but he didn’t because it had turned out Mitch friend-zoned her and she was a bit of a wreck after that. (A bit was an understatement; She wouldn’t leave her room for a week.) _Fuck Mitch_.

“The girls and your brothers started making bets to see when we’d get together, too. I noticed it after I heard Bubbles talking about it with Boomer on the phone. Get this: She wanted to set us up on a blind date.”

He almost wheezes at that. “Fuck, I didn’t even realize.”

“Dumbass,” She laughs again, shoulders bouncing upwards and head bouncing downwards. After that, it’s quiet for a few minutes, until she breaks the silence again. “You think I can trust that I can leave you alone without you just going back to drinking, tonight? I’m worried you’ll just be a fucking idiot again.”

He blinks. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, mom.” He grins as she smacks his shoulder. “Don’t worry, alright? I’m okay.”

“Okay,” She smiles back at him, “But if you even start to get sad again at all you better fucking call me.”

He nods, a small blush coating his cheeks again.

“Alright, good.” She sighs quietly, and her breath dances around her in the cold air. It’s another silence, and he faces forward again, staring at the buildings across the street.

Just as he begins to wonder if she’s actually going to leave or not, he feels something warm press against his cheek. She had _kissed_ him. His heart races and a lopsided smile finds its way onto his lips.

She floats upwards, then backward, and she’s facing him again.

“Bye. Call me if you need me.” She grins, and then she’s off, the lime green streak following her.

He smiles softly, and whispers: “Bye.”

He’s still smiling. He doesn’t feel excited, or even romantic, but he feels _something_.

 _Content_ . He feels content. _Happy_. He doesn’t really know if he’s better. He doesn’t really think so, but he does know this: He’s willing to keep trying on himself if she is, and that’s really all he needs right now.

And so he keeps smiling as he flies home to Mrs. Keane’s house.

**Author's Note:**

> big oof ?? i love their dynamic ok uHHhhhh  
> i miss the old show :(


End file.
